


In Memory's Wake

by Rycolfan (Snarryeyes)



Category: Whose Line Is It Anyway? RPF
Genre: Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-09
Updated: 2012-07-09
Packaged: 2017-11-09 12:49:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/455630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snarryeyes/pseuds/Rycolfan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pre-Drewsline: Ryan and Colin go out for the night to a bachelor party of a mutual friend. The next morning, they wake up in the same bed, naked and handcuffed to each other with little memory of the previous night's events.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Memory's Wake

**Author's Note:**

> A Secret Santa fic from last Christmas. 
> 
> This is a work of fiction. No offense is intended to those portrayed herein.

Pain. It was the kind of pain that gradually asserts itself, clawing at the depths of your unconscious mind to rouse you from sleep, and then grows in strength as you become more and more aware of it. 

Colin slowly opened his eyes and then immediately wished he hadn’t, squeezing them shut at the flare of renewed throbbing behind them. It was strange—he hardly ever suffered the morning after a big party. In fact, he was always the cheerful member of the group, watching (with a certain degree of amusement, it must be said) as the others dragged themselves around on high doses of caffeine and painkillers. 

Painkillers seemed like a good idea right now—he just needed to reach his bag. Working up the energy, he attempted to move… only to find his right arm was caught. There was something cold encircling his wrist. Twisting his hand, his fingers brushed against warm skin. His eyes snapped open at once and he turned his head. The resulting resurgence of pain was dulled by the shock of seeing someone else sleeping in his bed, and not just anyone. Ryan. 

Fuck.

With trepidation creeping through his veins, Colin lifted the covers with his left hand and looked down. He dropped them again quickly, closing his eyes in silent mortification. Naked as the day he was born and saluting the morning in spectacular fashion, he was also attached to Ryan by means of a set of metal handcuffs—his right hand to Ryan’s left—and, by the looks of it, Ryan was no better off in the clothing department than himself… or indeed the other department. Colin averted his gaze from the tented sheets covering Ryan’s groin.

What the hell had they done last night? The pain in his head notwithstanding, Colin couldn’t remember anything about handcuffs, or how they’d got here, or… anything else. That train of thought unexpectedly caused his cock to jump in apparent approval and he scowled down at his traitorous body, willing his erection away. It remained defiantly erect. Any other morning he would have quickly taken care of it, but he most certainly was _not_ going to do that with Ryan only a hair’s breadth away. He needed to find the key to the cuffs. Now. With any luck, he could be showered and dressed before Ryan awoke and deny all knowledge of everything… not that he knew much to begin with. 

Slowly and carefully sitting up, grimacing with each creak of the bed, Colin surveyed the room. It was _his_ hotel room, judging by the familiar case propped up against the far wall. Various items of clothing were lying across the beige carpet, but nothing else looked out of place. Glancing to his left, Colin examined the bedside table. A lamp and a clock, but no key. He gingerly leaned over the edge of the bed to check the floor, and then looked across Ryan’s sleeping form to the identical bedside table on the other side, but he could see that the key wasn’t there either. Running out of places to search, Colin slipped his left hand under the pillows and felt around. Nothing.

Great. It looked like he’d be well and truly stuck until Ryan woke up, and what a conversation that would be. Sighing, and with goose bumps breaking out across his naked skin, Colin shifted back down under the covers to warm up again—he may as well be comfortable while he waited—and turned onto his right side to study the man next to him.

Ryan was still in a deep sleep, his smooth chest rising and falling gently with each breath, his face tranquil. The dark lashes that brushed his cheeks flickered every so often, unconsciously reacting to the stimulation of whatever dream Ryan’s imagination had conjured. Colin’s lips twitched upwards, but his smile soon faded to be replaced by a troubled expression. He wished to God he knew how they’d ended up like this. Frowning, he cast his mind back over what he could remember.

 

_“It’s good to be back, isn’t it?”_

_Colin hummed his assent. He was staring out of the cab window at the streets and buildings flashing past, each stirring bittersweet memories of a time that seemed so very long ago now—almost another lifetime. While he’d grown and changed, almost beyond recognition, the heart of Vancouver had stayed very much the same. It felt as if he was turning the pages of his life back to revisit a chapter long completed._

_“It promises to be quite a party anyway.”_

_Colin tore his eyes away from the window and smiled at Ryan, who was sitting across from him in the darkness, his face lit up sporadically by passing lights. They had returned to Vancouver for the bachelor party of one of their old friends from Theatre Sports, a flying visit in-between other commitments._

_“Brian always was a wild one. I’m surprised he’s found someone who’s agreed to a life sentence with him.”_

_Ryan laughed, the sound a pleasantly deep rumble. “Are you comparing marriage to prison, Col?”_

_Shrugging, Colin looked away again. “It is for some.”_

_There was a pregnant pause and Colin could practically hear Ryan’s brain processing the connotations of that statement, which had successfully sucked the laughter out of the conversation. He kept his eyes on a smudge on the window, and started when warm fingers wrapped around his hand._

_“Hey, are you okay?”_

_Colin smiled, more out of a need to reassure his best friend than really feeling it. “I’m fine.” He squeezed Ryan’s hand and then nodded out of the window as the cab slowed. “Looks like we’re here.”_

_The party was already going strong, a frenetic mass of alcohol and testosterone mixed with the occasional stripper—in other words, a typical bachelor party. Drinks were pressed into their hands, greetings shouted, and they were quickly swept up in the madness of their friend’s farewell to freedom._

 

Colin’s frown deepened as he tried to access more of his memory, but it seemed to fade to a blur about an hour into the party. Since alcohol had never affected him to this extent before, he could only assume that some other substance had been in play without his knowledge—perhaps the drinks had been spiked. Like he’d said to Ryan the previous night, Brian had always been a wild one and a bachelor party was a perfect excuse to let that side out.

Colin’s expression turned wary as Ryan murmured something and tried to turn onto his side, away from him, tugging at the cuffs. Colin held him in place, watching Ryan’s face as consciousness found its way back to him and his brow became steadily creased—probably in the same amount of pain as Colin had felt upon waking. It was now a relentless background beat to Colin’s musings. A minute went by before the eyelids fluttered open, accompanied by a groan through dry, chapped lips, and another minute before the dull, green eyes focused on him. 

Colin watched the slow progression of emotions unfold on Ryan’s face. Pain turned to confusion, followed by dawning realization and then shock. 

“Col?”

Colin offered a grim smile. “Morning.”

“What…?”

“Oh, it gets worse,” Colin sighed, lifting up his cuffed hand which dragged Ryan’s along with it.

Ryan’s eyes widened, almost comically. “… the fuck?” He immediately started looking around the room, twisting his head to check his bedside table.

“Don’t bother, I’ve already looked. The key’s not here.”

“Well, where the hell is it then?” he demanded, his well-known temper flaring. 

“Do I look like the man with all the answers?” Colin snapped back, wincing as the sound reverberated around his aching head. He sat up, closing his eyes to massage his temple, the sheets falling to pool at his waist. This was turning into the worst morning ever. 

When he finally let his fingers drop with a sigh and looked back at Ryan, readying himself for more of Ryan’s bad hangover mood, he found the other man staring at his bare chest blankly. Green eyes flicked up to his.

“We’re both—“

“Naked, yes.”

“Did we—“

“I don’t know.”

“Fucking hell.”

“You could say that.”

Ryan abruptly turned over to switch his lamp on, and Colin let out a hiss of pain as he was yanked forward, the metal cutting into his skin. Ryan looked back, confused until he saw Colin rubbing his wrist. 

“Shit, I’m sorry.” He moved back into the centre of the bed, taking Colin’s cuffed hand to rub soothing circles over the sore patch. He looked up into Colin’s eyes with the sort of lopsided, apologetic smile that would always wash away any wrongdoing. “This is going to take some getting used to.”

“People did always used to say that we were attached at the hip,” Colin said, smiling back. He pulled his hand back, unable to concentrate properly under Ryan’s massage, and sighed again. “Look, we need to find a way out of these. If Brian was behind this, and I’m pretty sure he was, then he’ll have the key—his room’s only one floor up from mine.”

Ryan ran his fingers around the cuff on his wrist, tugging on the locking mechanism experimentally. He let out a huff of frustration when it didn’t budge. “We’re going to have to somehow get showered and dressed first, though… unless you want to risk a guest calling the cops on us.”

“Well,” Colin shrugged, “we can generally think in synch. Let’s see if we can move in synch too.”

Ryan nodded and Colin immediately started to shift towards the edge of the bed. He paused when Ryan made no move to follow, looking back at his friend questioningly. Ryan was looking at him intently, his expression unreadable. “Ry?”

“Do you remember any of last night?”

An uneasy tension filled Colin’s stomach as he shook his head. “I can remember the party up until around nine o’clock, then nothing.” He paused. “Why? Have you remembered something?”

“No,” Ryan sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose with thumb and forefinger. “That’s just it. I can’t remember a damn thing.”

Colin felt a jolt of… something—he wasn’t quite sure whether it was relief or disappointment. Perhaps a mixture of both. He flexed the fingers of his cuffed hand to reach Ryan’s. “Come on, I’ve got some painkillers in my bag.”

Murmuring agreement, Ryan dropped his hand and pulled back the sheets to stand, completely unabashed by his naked state. He had always been much slimmer than Colin but he was far from skinny, his muscles nicely defined on a flat abdomen, sprinkled with a little hair leading downwards…

Colin looked away quickly. He hesitated for a moment before following Ryan’s lead, attempting to mask his self-consciousness about his own body with a carefully constructed air of confidence. Thankfully his morning salute had lost most of its vigour and Ryan didn’t bat an eyelash.

The painkillers were right where they should be, tucked inside the left hand pocket of his holdall. Popping a couple himself, he straightened and handed two over to Ryan who smiled gratefully and swallowed them dry. Carrying on towards the bathroom, Colin opened the door and they paused on the threshold. It looked a little small for two grown men to maneuver around together, but there was no alternative.

Ryan glanced sideways at him. “I gotta—“

“Me too.”

They took it turns to relieve their full bladders of a night’s worth of heavy drinking, the other politely looking away, and then stood in front of the rather modest shower cubicle, looking at it critically.

Colin decided to ask the question. “Okay, how are we going to work this?”

“Trial and error, I guess,” Ryan shrugged, stepping inside. The metal clinked gently as Ryan raised his cuffed hand. “You never know, maybe we can slide these things off with soap.”

Colin knew that was highly unlikely but he was willing to give it a try. He stepped into the shower behind Ryan and closed the door. It didn’t look quite as small on the inside, but it was by no means roomy for two grown men. They quickly found that the best way was for Colin to spin inwards towards Ryan’s body, much like a dancer would, so that he ended up with his back to Ryan’s chest, his right arm held against his abdomen by Ryan’s cuffed wrist. It wasn’t exactly comfortable, but being under the hot spray soon soothed and relaxed him.

Both of them rubbed generous amounts of soap onto their wrists in an attempt to free themselves, but there just wasn’t enough leeway between cuffs and skin so they gave it up as a bad idea and concentrated on getting the rest of their bodies clean instead. Colin was starting to feel fairly human again. His headache was fading, and Ryan’s hand was comfortingly firm on his hip. But when he moved to clean under his right arm he let out a gasp of pain, moving to grasp his shoulder on that side.

Ryan’s concern was immediate. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing,” Colin replied, his voice tight. “I must have wrenched my shoulder last night.”

“Or this morning,” Ryan added guiltily, speaking the words that Colin had deliberately withheld. “Let me see.”

His right hand firmly pushed Colin’s away and began working on the sore muscle it had been clasping, his fingers moving in slow circles with a gentle pressure as the water beat its own synchronized rhythm. It felt so good that Colin couldn’t help releasing a soft moan of appreciation.

The fingers on his shoulder faltered at the sound. Colin tensed, fearing Ryan might remove them completely, but they quickly resumed their task and he relaxed again, letting his head drop forwards, his chin bumping his chest. The next moment he felt something much softer stir the hairs on his neck—a whisper of warm lips. The touch was as delicate as the brush of a butterfly’s wings, but it brought Colin’s wilting erection back to life with startling force. It took him a moment to realize that he’d stopped breathing.

Ryan’s hand curled around Colin’s upper arm before splaying across his chest, pressing him backwards, his other hand enclosing its captive neighbour. Colin offered no resistance. His brain seemed to be fighting conflicting emotions. Ryan’s touch was familiar, yet very different to anything that he’d experienced before—gentler, softer… _sensual_. 

Colin bit his lip as Ryan rubbed the pad of his finger over a nipple. If this was his friend’s attempt to help him wash, it was teasing in the extreme, bordering on torture. Ryan’s hand gradually wandered lower, across his belly, and Colin’s breathing hitched in a kind of half-terrified anticipation. There was no hiding his body’s reaction to Ryan’s touch.

But then Ryan shifted his footing slightly and Colin felt something dig into the small of his back, giving him his answer. If he was still in any doubt, Ryan’s fingers wrapping around his member soon blew them away.

Colin couldn’t help it—he moaned again, louder this time, the sound bursting from his mouth to echo off the tiled walls. Ryan, emboldened by this noise of approval, adjusted his grip and began to slowly stroke Colin’s shaft, his hand sliding deliciously smoothly in the soapy water.

His breathing now staccato, Colin let his head flop back onto Ryan’s chest, his eyes falling closed of their own accord. Maybe it wasn’t right, but it felt too damn good to stop. It was over-powering—the sensations, the pleasure—he wasn’t sure he could stop even if he wanted to. Besides, his inner voice rationalized, if they’d done what he feared they’d done the night before, the line was already well and truly crossed regardless. This was a little slice of heaven being offered freely and, if it was to be his only memory, he wasn’t going to waste it. As he felt another brush of lips on his neck, the hardness on his back becoming a little more insistent, Colin lifted his head and, gathering his courage, turned around. 

Ryan’s hand slipped from him and when Colin met his eyes, they were filled with flickering emotions—desire, confusion, but most of all fear. The need to reassure him stronger than the nervous fluttering in his belly, Colin reached out and curled his fingers around Ryan’s heated flesh, the softness of the skin a stark contrast to the jutting hardness it enveloped. He kept his eyes on Ryan’s face, enjoying the spasm of surprise which quickly morphed into an expression of unadulterated enjoyment as Colin began light strokes.

Ryan’s hand found his abandoned cock again and, when Colin’s eyes threatened to close at the touch, Ryan’s voice broke the silence, his voice uncharacteristically soft. “Look at me.”

Colin blinked and focused on Ryan’s eyes, more intense than he’d ever seen. His pupils were dilated, swallowing most of the green around them, pulling Colin in helplessly. Every spark of pleasure that trembled through Ryan’s body seemed to fan the fire in the depths of his eyes as their hands moved in tandem, and Colin knew that his own eyes were baring his emotions just as freely. It was far more intimate than anything he’d experienced, penetrative or otherwise.

They remained synchronized, their breathing steadily increasing along with their movements, lips parting to draw in more oxygen, gazes locked. Colin could feel his wedding ring rubbing against Ryan’s cock with every stroke. It should have felt so wrong. But it felt so natural that it was almost as if he was touching his own flesh. His cuffed hand was against Ryan’s, palm to palm, their fingers clasped tightly.

As a pool of warmth began to flare outwards from Colin’s core, the fractured piece of a memory flashed in front of his eyes. It was immediately followed by another, and another, like the broken reel of a film. But like the remnants of a dream upon waking, the harder he tried to cling onto it, the faster it slipped away. So, instead, he let them wash over him as the pleasure mounted, merging with the fire in Ryan’s eyes.

Then, a moment before his body ignited, he moved forward at the same time as Ryan, and their lips met. It wasn’t forceful or desperate, just soft and tender, tongues caressing, as the built-up pressure found release. And, in that moment, Colin caught hold of a memory from the previous night and held onto it.

He leant his forehead against Ryan’s as they caught their breath, allowing the memory to wash over him like the now barely tepid water that was streaming down his back. It was foggy at best, more emotion than image, but there was no mistaking the man he was wrapped around and the voice that whispered reverently, truths spilling from unguarded lips.

The trill of Ryan’s cell phone sounded from the bedroom, ruthlessly intruding on the moment with a sickeningly cheerful tone. He looked up at Colin, eyes apologetic, and, by silent agreement, they quickly washed themselves again and stepped out of the shower. There was only one towel, but it was large enough to cover both of them as they went to find the phone before it cut to messages.

Finding it on the floor beneath his pants, Ryan jabbed the button roughly. 

“Hello? Oh, hi.”

Colin sank down onto the edge of the bed, casting his eyes around for his scattered clothes. He knew, of course, who Ryan was speaking to, her voice loud enough for him to hear from his limited distance. Now, more than ever, he wished that the cuffs were off.

He spotted his pants and grabbed them, trying not to listen to the conversation—Ryan explaining why he hadn’t called, telling her about the bachelor party, a lie slipped in here and there, that he’d be home soon. Needing something else to do, Colin reached across the floor to snag his bag in order to find some clean underwear. Rummaging around one-handed, he brushed against the corner of his plane ticket, which was poking out of one of the pockets. His hand paused before pulling it out, reading the details he’d already checked at least three times. In a few hours he’d be on his way back to Toronto, all being well.

“What time’s your flight?” 

Colin looked up. He hadn’t even realized that Ryan had ended the call. “Two thirty.” Shoving the ticket back in his bag, he resumed his search.

“I guess we’d better get these cuffs off pretty soon then.”

As Ryan started to gather his own clothes, Colin glanced sideways at him. One phone call had flipped everything back to normality, with the exception of said handcuffs.

“Fuck! I guess I can’t wear this.” 

Ryan held up his shirt, which had almost been ripped clean in half. Colin assumed that his own shirt would be the same—unless someone handcuffed them _after_ they got undressed, which was highly unlikely. So they dressed their bottom halves, Ryan waving away Colin’s offer of borrowed underwear, and, with some difficulty, threw Ryan’s jacket around their bare shoulders.

“Okay, let’s go.”

 

The corridor outside was deserted except for a cleaning trolley further down, but they could hear whistling coming from somewhere nearby. Heading towards the elevator, they stayed close together, holding hands so that the cuffs weren’t too noticeable. Their luck held until they stepped out of the elevator one floor up, coming face to face with a middle-aged man in a suit, but he only gave them a slightly quizzical look before passing by. 

Ryan started to ask if Colin knew the room number but, just then, a door opened a little further along and a bedraggled girl appeared.

“See you later, Bri!”

She barely spared them a glance as she weaved her way towards the elevator, looking as if she was on a storm tossed ship. Exchanging a look, Ryan and Colin walked to the door that had just swung shut. It looked a little battered, one of the numbers hanging off and still swinging slightly—apparently Brian had continued the party in his room. Ryan rapped his knuckles on the wood loudly.

A few seconds later it was answered by someone Colin vaguely recognized but didn’t know, who looked at them with barely veiled amusement before opening the door wide. “Bri?”

Their friend was lounging in a chair by the bed, surrounded by glasses and bottles. He looked, if possible, even scruffier than normal. It was clear that he hadn’t slept at all, his blue eyes foggy and underlined with deep shadows. Colin had always thought of him as a little boy in a grown up body, and that description was especially apt now. Turning, Brian’s face split into a wide grin.

“Ryan! Colin! Come in. There are still a few shots left in the mini-bar.”

Before Colin could reply scathingly, Ryan cut to the chase. “Are you responsible for this?” He held up their cuffed hands, jangling the metal.

Brian looked at it and then let out a bark of laughter. “Do you know, you’re the third couple I’ve seen today with that problem? Honestly, I don’t remember _half_ of last night but it looks like we had an absolute blast.”

Colin rolled his eyes. “Do you have the key?” 

“Yeah,” he replied, holding up a hand as he looked around, “It’s here somewhere. Aha!” He held up a silver key victoriously. “Told you!”

“If you wouldn’t mind…?” Ryan said pointedly, shaking his wrist.

“Oh, yeah.” Brian scrambled out of his chair. “I guess there’s only so much of each other you can take,” he grinned, getting to work.

A moment later the handcuffs slipped off. Colin should have felt happy, or at least relieved, but, as he rubbed the red band around his wrist, all that filled him was a sense of loss. In gaining freedom, it felt like something more important had been severed.

“I don’t know whether to thank you or punch you right now,” Ryan said, rubbing his own wrist.

“I’ll just take the thanks,” Brian replied, clapping him on the shoulder. “I’m already a condemned man.”

“Yeah,” Ryan snorted. “Good luck with that. We’ll be sure to send handcuffs as a wedding gift.”

 

Ryan put his jacket on Colin as they returned to their respective rooms, seemingly not bothered about baring his own torso. There was only a short distance between them as they walked but, to Colin, it felt like a mile. He missed Ryan’s hand in his.

“It’ll be good to get into clean clothes,” Ryan smiled, stopping at his door and fishing in his pants for the key. “You want to go grab some breakfast after?”

Colin shook his head—he wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep up the cheerful, nothing happened act. Not now he remembered. “I’ll just get something at the airport.”

Ryan’s smile faltered. For a moment it seemed as if he was on the point of saying something, but then the look faded away and he nodded. “Okay, let me know when you’re leaving.”

 

It wasn’t going to take long for Colin to pack—hardly anything had been taken out of his bag in the end. He took a few minutes to shave first—trying not to let his eyes stray to the shower cubicle in the mirror—donned a fresh shirt, combed what was left of his hair, and generally made himself look a little more presentable. He was just tossing the last few things into his bag when there was a knock on the door.

Colin wasn’t in the least surprised by who was standing on the other side. “If you’ve come for your shirt, I tossed it in the trash,” he said cheerfully, forcing a smile before returning to his luggage.

Ryan flashed a grin and stepped inside, closing the door. “I can buy another one.” 

There was a pregnant pause. 

“Look, Col—“

“I know,” Colin cut in, zipping his holdall up. “You want to forget this ever happened.”

Ryan started forward. “No. I want—“ he stopped, taking a breath before looking Colin straight in the eyes. “Do you think you could stay a little longer?”

Colin stared at him. It wasn’t until the holdall had been lifted from his unresisting fingers and he was enveloped in Ryan’s warmth, like an echo of the night before, a cool nose pressed against his neck with a touch of lips, that Colin finally allowed himself to believe. 

Ryan remembered, too.

 

End.


End file.
